


What You Did Last Night

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, I'm Sorry, M/M, also margot/freddie is kind of a background thing, cheesy and stupid, this fic is so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Price can't remember exactly what happened last night, what he does know is that he now has an awful tattoo on his arm that he'd like to get rid of. Whilst retracing his steps from the night before, he meets Brian Zeller the tattoo artist who quickly turns out to be so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Did Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff for [Roxanne](http://thisjabroni.tumblr.com).

Jimmy crinkled his nose in disgust at the grimy little building. It didn’t look fit for someone to step into without contracting a disease, let alone a good choice for a tattoo studio. He looked at the writing on the back of his hand, this was the last one of the list so unfortunately it had to be the right place.

The door was stiff, needing a good shove to force it open, but once inside Jimmy saw that the interior wasn’t nearly as bad as he was expecting. The walls were white, with the one at the back painted bright red and all of them covered in various designs and band posters. It was clean at least. The guy behind the front desk gave him a grin as he walked in.

“Hey! It’s crocodile guy, right? What was it, Jimmy?” he greeted. He was leaning against the desk and had a pencil stuck behind his ear. The sleeveless t-shirt he was wearing showing off the two tattoo sleeves he had. Jimmy brought his eyes back to the guy’s face.

“Yeah,” he said, the word drawn out and hesitant. He had been angry this morning and stormed out the door without putting much thought into what he was going to do,  and now that the moment was here, he realised he didn’t quite know what he was meant to say.

“What can I do for you now you’re sober?” the man asked. The pencil fell out from its tentative holding place behind his ear. He tried to catch it but missed, and so left it on the floor, giving Jimmy a sheepish grin, and pretending nothing had happened.

“About that…” Jimmy said. “I’m a bit hazy about what happened last night and then I woke up with… well you know… on my arm. I’m just trying piece together what happened.”

The man’s grin widened.

“Well let’s see, you came in here about midnight – whilst I was trying to close up I might add – and demanded that I tattoo you to prove-” the sentence was broken by him giving a small laugh. “To prove to your friend that you weren’t chicken or a coward or a five year old. You were very adamant you were none of those things, you even offered to pay me double.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I?”

“Did you what?”

“Pay you double?”

“Oh,” the guy laughed again. He laughed a lot and Jimmy could feel himself getting irritated, his skin prickling with embarrassment. “Of course not, I’m not a thief.”

“Right,” Jimmy said. The man raised his eyebrows waiting for him to continue, still smiling although he was trying to cover it with his hand. “Well I need you to get rid of it.”

“No can do,” the man shook his head. “We give people tattoos we don’t take them away.”

“Fine,” Jimmy folded his arms. “Then… Then I want to speak to your manager,” he demanded. Brian put his hands up in the air in defence, retreating from behind the desk.

“I will go and get her for you, take a seat,” he said, pointing at the black leather chairs up against the window. Jimmy sat down and touched his arm again, it was still tender from what had been inked into his skin last night. The man returned moments later with a disgruntled looking women, her ginger hair hastily pulled back with stray curls escaping all over the place.

“Jimmy is it?” she said to him. Jimmy stood up again and needlessly brushed down his trousers. “I’m Freddie Lounds, what can I do for you?” she asked before he had a chance to reply.

“He tattooed me last night,” Jimmy said, pointing at the man.

“Was it not satisfactory?” she asked. Her sharp cheekbones and steady stare were intimidating.

“I was drunk,” Jimmy explained. “He shouldn’t have…”

“Did you pay him to tattoo you?” Freddie Lounds questioned. Jimmy opened and closed his mouth, already able to see where this conversation was going and trying to find the words to steer in back into his favour.

“Yes,” he finally said.

“Well there we go then, you paid for a service which Brian here provided. That’s how these things usually work,” she said. “Was there anything else?”

“No,” Jimmy replied shortly. “Goodbye.”

He left the shop, taking a moment to struggle with the door again, ruining what he had  wanted to be an angry exit. He put his hands in his pockets as he made his way down the street, hoping that no one he knew saw him come out of the building. His heart sunk as someone called his name.

“Jimmy!”

He turned around, searching through the faces until he settled on the one making its way towards him. He rolled his eyes as he recognised the guy from the tattoo studio, Brian, as Freddie has called him.

“Look, man, I’m sorry, but you were really insistent last night. You wouldn’t leave and I needed to close up and you seemed like you really wanted the tattoo,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, his t-shirt riding up around his hips. Jimmy pretend he hadn’t been looking. “I can get you some make up to cover it up and show you how to do it. Tattoo removal is expensive but I can give you some information.”

“It’s fine, I think you’ve done enough,” Jimmy said, then turned to go, but Brian put a hand on his shoulder so that he couldn’t walk off. “Excuse me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Brian said, taking his hand off again. “Look, let me make it up to you. I’ll give you another tattoo, or pay for you to have it removed. At least let me take you out for a drink or something.”

 Jimmy’s expression changed to surprise. “What?”

“I don’t know, sorry,” Brian laughed. “Look, my band’s playing at this bar tonight, come along and afterwards drinks on me and we’re even? If you can handle another night out that is.”

Jimmy couldn’t work out if he was being serious. Then Brian took a pen out from one of his jeans back pocket and a screwed up piece of paper from the other. He scribbled the bar’s name down then handed it to Jimmy.

“If you want,” Brian shrugged. “Otherwise all I can say is sorry.” He turned around and left Jimmy with the piece of paper in his hand, staring after the younger, and extremely attractive tattoo artist. Brian didn’t look back, and soon disappeared back into his place of work.

Despite the fact he was still pissed about the terrible tattoo, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile to himself.

***

Jimmy had hovered outside the bar for a good fifteen minutes before going in, the only thought consuming his mind was that this was _not_ his kind of place. Everyone who had gone in was much younger than him, covered in tattoos and dressed in leathers and tight jeans. The music thumping out of the building was not the kind of music that Jimmy liked, hell he didn’t even know why he’d come, he was sure that Brian’s offer hadn’t been genuine.

Eventually he’d made himself go in. It was so dark he could barely see, and the room was filled to the brim with people dancing, drinking, and shouting. He made his way over to the bar and ordered himself a beer, and then leant with his back against a wall in corner where he could see the small stage.

He recognised two of the band members instantly; the lead singer, and also on lead guitar was the manager of the tattoo place, Freddie Lounds. She was now wearing bright red lipstick, her hair all over the place. The bassist was a woman that Jimmy didn’t know, but on the drums was Brian, he was wearing the same clothes as earlier but was now covered in sweat from the effort he was putting in. As the song finished the three of them looked around the bar with pride, Brian’s eyes falling on Jimmy.

His façade as a sexy, tattooed drummer quickly faded as he grinned like a child on Christmas morning and waved. Jimmy waved back.

They played three more songs, none of which Jimmy liked, but he couldn’t take his eyes away. Brian would look over at him every now and then and smile, and when he wasn’t looking at Jimmy he was putting everything he had into playing, the muscles in his arms flexing with every movement. 

They finished their set, not quick enough in Jimmy’s opinion, and after thanking the audience they left the stage, Brian pulling the two girls towards Jimmy.

“I told you he’d turn up!” he said, nudging Freddie.

“Hi,” Jimmy said, smiling at the two girls before looking Brian up and down. He kicked himself mentally, reminding himself not to make it so obvious when he was checking someone out.

“So you already know Freddie, and this the last member of the band Margot,” Brian said nodding at the woman who Jimmy hadn’t known. She smiled at him, then put her arm around Freddie’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“We’ll leave you to it, we’re going to make out somewhere don’t disturb us,” Freddie said, slipping her arm around Margot’s waist and leading her off. Jimmy watched as they sat down on a couch that Jimmy was _sure_ no one should be sitting on.

“I’m glad you came,” Brian said. “Let me get you another drink hang on,” he was off again before Jimmy had a chance to say that it was okay. He returned minutes later with two pints of beer.

“I liked the music,” Jimmy said to make conversation.

“Really?” Brian asked, looking amused as he took a sip of beer. Even in the dull light he could see Jimmy flush red.

“Well... you’re talented on the drums,” Jimmy said. “But it’s not really my kind of thing,” he admitted.

“What is your kind of thing?”

Jimmy took a mouthful of beer to stop himself saying anything stupid like _you,_ or, _drummers,_ or, _tattoo artists I barely know inviting me out for a drink._ Instead he shrugged. “The Bee Gees.”

Brian puffed out his cheeks to stop himself from laughing. Jimmy downed half his beer. _The Bee Gees? Why the fuck did you say that?_

“Okay, so, let’s pretend you didn’t just say that,” Brian said. “Do you remember any of our conversation from last night?” he asked instead.

“I don’t really remember anything, it was my friend’s birthday and when we get drunk… well… I blame her entirely,” Jimmy offered as an explanation. His friend and co-worker Beverly Katz was renowned for coming up with terrible ideas when she was drunk. Jimmy couldn’t believe he’d let himself got caught up in one, especially as something as stupid and permanent as a tattoo.

“So you don’t remember saying I was the most attractive man you’d ever met, and if you weren’t so tired you would have liked to make out with me?” Brian asked. Jimmy blinked a few times, wanting to protest that he would never say such a thing, but knew better. That was exactly the kind of thing that drunk Jimmy would say.

“I would like to apologise for anything I said last night,” he said instead. Brian shook his head.

“No apology needed, I was flattered,” he replied. “You want to get out of here?”

“What?” Jimmy said, nearly dribbling beer down himself as he forgot to swallow.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked in a louder voice. The crowd of people cheered as another band got up onto the stage.

“Don’t you think we should get to know each other or whatever it is people do, first?” Jimmy said.

“You know what your problem is?” Brian asked. Jimmy shook his head. “Sober you overthinks too much.” With that he leant in for a kiss, Jimmy almost spilt his beer completely and his lips met Brian’s. The kiss didn’t last long as they were both still awkwardly holding their glasses. It was softer than anyone would have expected from a guy who looked like Brian did, he pulled away gently and smiled. Not in the happy-go-lucky grin which was his norm, but a smaller smile like he was reassuring Jimmy.  

“So what was that about getting out of here?” Jimmy said, a little breathless. They both finished their drinks and then Brian grabbed his hand, his skin was burning hot from where he’d been drumming. They headed over to the bar first where Brian was passed a leather jacket from the girl behind the bar, who then waved them off.

He pulled Jimmy out onto the street, both of them revelling in the burst of fresh air as they made it out of the door.

Brian pulled him in for another kiss, more passionate this time as their hands were free.

“I’m just over here,” he said, taking a step backwards towards a motorbike.

“Oh no, no, you’ve got to be joking,” Jimmy said. Brian shook his head.

“Come on, what happened to the guy who goes out and gets a tattoo of a lab coat wearing crocodile?” he grinned. Jimmy scowled.

“Don’t you ever mention that again,” he muttered. Brian swung his leg over the bike, and patted the seat behind him. Reluctantly Jimmy got on. Brian reached around and took Jimmy’s arms, pulling them around his waist.

“Never mention it again? I’m never going to let you forget it,” he laughed, as he kicked the bike into action.  “By the way, Jimmy, hold on tight.”


End file.
